Granddaughter?
Lucy searched Professor T’s face for any trace of her own. Maybe beneath the bushy eyebrows and beard it would be easier to see herself.
Professor T met her questioning gaze. “I have longed for this day,” he told her. “I had almost given up hope. And then you walked into the Tesla Suite.”
“I-I…” Lucy stuttered. Thunderstruck didn’t begin to cover it. Oh. So that was how Ravi had performed his DNA test—checking hers against a sample from Professor T.
In less than thirty minutes, Lucy had lost two parents and gained a grandfather.
Victor caught up to them and drew to her side, hands balled into fists.
“The infamous Professor Weston-Jones,” he said with loathing.
“The very same.”
The driver’s-side door of the limo opened and a tall, freckled man stepped out. He held a gun with a silencer in his hand. Frak. Way more than a chauffeur, it would seem. Maybe another Initiate.
“Lucinda,” Professor T said. “You remind me so much of Quentin. My son. Your true father.”
Quentin. The name was like a relic from a lost world. Next to her, Lucy felt Victor flinch. He began reaching his hand inside his suit jacket, and Professor T’s driver raised his weapon.
“Be so kind as to leave your hands where I can see them,” Professor T said to Victor as if he were beneath his contempt. “I’m speaking with my granddaughter.”
Lucy’s heart swelled with panic. Her first impulse was still to protect the man she’d called Dad until a few minutes ago. She looked between him and Professor T.
“You’re nothing to her,” Victor growled while keeping his hands at his sides.
The professor raised his eyebrows. “Do you deny that Lucinda is my blood?”
“That’s all you share,” Victor spat. Lucy had never heard such hatred in his voice.
Professor T took a step in her direction. “I was told you were stillborn, but I never believed it.” He sneered at Victor. “The Sophists aren’t nearly as clever as they think.”
“Does Quentin have the lightning gene?” Lucy asked. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “You inherited the lightning gene from your mother.”
Her mother. Her birth mother. “Ravi said you’d been working with a female carrier of the mutation, but that she died. Was that her?”
Her grandfather inclined his head solemnly. “I’m sorry. She died in childbirth.” He paused. “She wanted to name you Nikola, after Tesla.”
Nikola. That’s what had been encrypted in the photo. But she’d never divulged that information to Ravi.
“And my father?” Lucy asked. Victor lanced her with an agonized look, and she sucked in a breath. “Quentin? Where is he?”
“My son was killed by the Order of Sophia,” Professor T replied. “Your mother went into hiding when she learned she was pregnant. Quentin wouldn’t give up her location. He loved her beyond reason.” He drilled the walking stick into the pavement. “I will always regret that the Sophists found you anyway, and that I missed the first eighteen years of your life. But Lucinda, I promise you, I won’t miss out on the next.”
“Bravo!” Victor began to clap, slow and venomous. “What a performance. Encore!” He clasped his hands around Lucy’s shoulders, rotating her to face him. She heard a click as the man with the gun released the safety.
“Listen to me, kiddo. Your father wasn’t killed by the Sophists.” His words were low, urgent. “He brought you to us—asked us to hide you. The photo you decoded was sent by your father.”
Lucy’s head swam. “You knew him?”
“No, Quentin sent it to one of my superiors. He’d been on the run with you, but it was no way to raise a child. And the Archimedeans were closing in. The photo—I didn’t know that was how he’d communicated with the Order until recently.”
“Liber librum aperit,” Lucy said in a hush, and Victor nodded.
“You’re far smarter than me, kiddo.” An almost-smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I never thought to scan the photo for a message.”
“All alchemists know that motto,” Professor T interjected. He was right. The phrase didn’t prove it’d been sent by her father. Although the fact that whoever sent it had called her Nikola indicated they knew who she was, what her real parents had named her—before she became Lucy Phelps.
“But the photo was sent to the Sapientia Group before you started working there,” Lucy said to Victor.
“True,” he replied. “The Order funded my Ph.D. research and it was my professor who approached me. Your mom—Elaine—and I had been married a few years and we couldn’t conceive.” He brushed a hand against Lucy’s cheek the way he had so many times over the years. “When he showed me the photo, I took one look and knew I would love you as my own.”
His story sounded so convincing. “But why—why would he do that? Why would Quentin give me to his enemies?” Lucy asked.
“Because your father didn’t want you to spend your life as a test subject in one of his”—Victor jabbed an accusing finger at Professor T—“research facilities.”
“Professor T isn’t the one who’s treated me like a test subject.”
“We’ve dedicated our lives to keeping you safe. To helping you.”
“Help?” Lucy slapped his hand from her face. “That wasn’t your decision to make. You never asked me what I wanted—because you don’t care.”
“Kiddo, you know that’s not true.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything about anything, apparently. And that’s your fault!” Lucy folded her arms. “Besides, you failed. My heart stopped on the High Line despite all of your attempts to cure me!”
Victor paled. “Lucy.” She could see in his face that he hadn’t been aware of that detail. He looked devastated. Haunted.
“Lucinda,” said Professor T. “Your mother belonged to the Order of Sophia, and their experiments to suppress her powers hastened her death. She grew too weak to survive childbirth. The Sophists convinced Evangeline she was a monster and she believed them. They’ll do the same to you—I won’t stand for it.” He pounded his walking stick on the ground.
Evangeline. Evangeline and Quentin. It sounded so formal, so Victorian. Were those really her parents? Rick had been a Sophist and he claimed he’d known another woman with the lightning gene. Was it her mother? Could Rick have been aware of Lucy’s true parentage the entire time? She hated that there might actually be a reason for her to contact him.
Lucy’s eyes traveled from Professor T to Victor. “Please,” said the man who had raised her. “You can’t believe a word that viper has to say.”
She tore at her curls. “I can’t believe anything you’ve told me.” Lucy felt utterly paralyzed, and Victor was so adept at shielding that she couldn’t read him at all. There was too much information. Lucy wished her powers included freezing time.
“Unlike the Order of Sophia, the Archimedeans make offers, not threats,” Professor T told her. “Lucinda, you are my last remaining family. I would like the opportunity to get to know you better, to work together, but the choice is yours.”
A new voice joined the fray.
“I understand your confusion, Lucy. But I can’t let you go with the professor.”
She flashed her eyes toward the intruder and found herself looking down the barrel of a gun.
“Mom?”
Lucy gaped, trying to reconcile the woman who smelled of peppermint and agonized over the precise amount of gluten in her organic banana bread with the woman aiming a gun at her.
“Mom?” she repeated. It was a cracked, jagged sound.
Her mother stood statue straight, her chignon pinned precisely to the top of her head like a crown. The breeze didn’t dare ruffle the flyaways framing her face. She seemed equally at ease with the weapon in her hand as she did poring over manuscripts.
“The Initiates have been subdued,” she said to Victor as she approached the limo at a measured pace from between the parked cars, her breathing even.
He nodded. Had her mom subdued the Initiates? Single-handedly?
“There’s no cavalry coming to your rescue, Professor Weston-Jones. I suggest you get in your car and leave while I’m still inclined to let you go.”
She kept the gun on Lucy as she issued her threat. This brought monastic composure to a whole new level.
“I’m afraid I’m not inclined to let you take my granddaughter against her will,” replied Professor T. “Elaine, isn’t it?”
Her lips parted in a brittle smile. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Suddenly, Professor T’s driver clutched his chest, trying to brace on the hood of the limo, and toppled to the asphalt.
Lucy’s hands flew to her mouth, too stunned to scream. Lucy’s mom didn’t move a muscle. The shot had been silent, but it hadn’t been fired by the woman in front of her.
Who had taken the shot?
“As I was saying,” Elaine said to Professor T. Another scream died in Lucy’s throat. How many life-or-death situations had Lucy’s mom been in? Just this morning, she had told Lucy her father was all bark and no bite, and Lucy hadn’t believed her.
“Sophists are always so quick to violence,” Professor T chided. He didn’t seem concerned about the man crumpled on the ground. Although Lucy suspected he’d never show fear in front of the Sophists.
“We have more discipline than the Initiates,” Victor rebuked. “You nearly got Lucy killed after her prom.”
“As did you.” Professor T narrowed his eyes.
While the men argued, Elaine said, “Lucy, we need to go.” Her tone was dispassionate. “I won’t let the Order of Archimedes take you.”
“And if I don’t come with you, then what? You’ll make sure no one else can have me?” Lucy’s accusation rushed out in a hysterical jumble.
“I took an oath to protect you, and protect you I will.”
Elaine Phelps spoke with conviction, never raising her voice. Victor might do menacing really well but Elaine’s calm was exponentially more frightening.
Lucy’s gaze zoomed in on her trigger finger.
“You can’t protect me if I’m dead!” she yelled.
She thrust out her hands, screwing up her lips, and concentrated on attracting the gun in her direction and out of Elaine’s grasp. Tears burned her eyes and yet she felt none of the exhilarating anger that had preceded the stapler flying at Megan’s head.
Come on. What was wrong with her powers?
Elaine watched Lucy’s efforts with no reaction. “I blame myself for not taking the threat to you more to heart,” she said in an infuriatingly rational manner. “After all these years, I had dropped my guard.” She cast a poisonous glance at Professor T, who stood immobile by the open limo.
“I blame myself for not destroying that photo. I blame myself for underestimating my daughter. Even when you caused a neighborhood blackout. Even when Dr. Rosen concluded that your abilities had begun developing at an accelerated rate.”
The fine lines tightened around Elaine’s eyes. “I ignored the warning signs because, like your father, I wanted you to stay my little girl a little longer.”
“I was never yours.” Lucy hurled the reproach as hard as she could, once more attempting to magnetize the gun. Nothing. “Our family is a lie.”
Elaine exchanged a heated look with Victor and his muscles tensed as if preparing for a punch.
Before the bullet had a chance to hit Lucy, pain like she’d never known set her body alight. The pain of a betrayal like no other.
Elaine had pulled the trigger.
The woman she had called mother was willing to end Lucy’s life as if she were nothing but a failed experiment.
With more strength and speed than Lucy ever imagined she could possess, she clawed her nails into Victor’s forearm and levered him in front of her.
His mouth opened in a grunt of disbelief as the bullet hit him square in the back. His eyes went glassy and he collapsed on top of her. Lucy fell to the ground under his weight, his body banging against her rib cage. As Lucy braced her hands on his shoulders to roll him off, she realized there was no blood. Anywhere.
A sprig of silver stuck out from his scapula. It was a dart—a tranquilizer dart.
Relief—if it could be called that—washed over Lucy that Elaine hadn’t intended to kill her, only render her unconscious, take away her free will.
Professor T arced his walking stick in a broad stroke and the ouroboros connected with Elaine’s hand. Lucy heard a sickening crunch. The gun fell to her feet. Elaine howled in pain, cradling her injured—possibly broken—hand and lunged for Professor T. The older man lost his footing and crashed against the open car door.
The walking stick fell from his grasp, rolling under the limo.
“Lucy!” It was the lilt she would recognize anywhere. “The bracelets!”
Ravi was running at full speed across the parking lot. From the corner of her eye, Lucy saw another man in a dark suit sprinting toward him at a diagonal.
At the same moment, Professor T felled Elaine with a sweeping kick. They began to struggle on the pavement beside the limo.
The bracelets. Of course. She stared down at the black stone coiled around her wrists. A small piece of tourmaline grounded Lucy’s powers. Too much must neutralize them.
Her skin crawled. Her parents had tricked Lucy into putting on her own handcuffs. If she hadn’t seen Claudia, their plan might have worked. She would be halfway to some Sophist safe house—or prison.
Lucy removed the first bracelet and, almost instantly, Victor’s frequency rushed over her. In his unguarded state, she saw a tall briar in her mind. Sunlight sparkled on the tips of its thorns. Was that how Victor saw himself? Was he guarding Lucy from the world—or the world from her?
She wanted to believe her parents, but they had never trusted her, never believed in her. All the rules and restrictions were meant to contain Lucy, not protect her. As she removed the second bracelet, she glimpsed several more black-clad figures weaving through the parking lot. Whatever the Sophists’ equivalent to the Initiates were, she supposed.
Adrenaline jolted through Lucy’s system, bitterness glazing her tongue, and she shoved Victor’s drugged mass to the side.
Raising herself to standing, Lucy captured Elaine’s gaze from where she grappled with Professor T, and pitched the ebony shackles toward the football field with all her might.
Claudia O’Rourke
Lucy had tuned out Principal Petersen’s monotone announcing the graduates, but her ears caught on her best friend’s name. This was her big moment. I’m sorry. For missing it. For everything.
Claudia was the only true thing about her childhood and the best thing about growing up in Eaton. But to keep her friend safe from the feud between the Orders, Lucy would have to give her up. Jess had been right.
If Lucy truly loved Claudia, she could never see her again.
Sorrow eddied inside her and she stretched her hands in the air toward the tranquilizer gun on the ground behind the struggling forms of Elaine and Professor T. Lucy squeezed her fists and concentrated harder. The gun began to quiver.
She heard another shot. Her eyes dashed in Ravi’s direction. It looked like he was locked in an embrace with the man who’d been chasing him.
Then the man keeled over. ThankGodthankGodthankGod. Ravi seemed unharmed.
Lucy stalked closer to Elaine and Professor T. Metal rattled against the asphalt. She pictured the arc of the trajectory the gun would need to take in order to land in her hand and bit her lips until she tasted blood. Then the pain dissipated, swept aside by a raging elation.
Elaine bashed Professor T’s head against the open door. He groaned. She moved toward Lucy, and Professor T managed to grab a fistful of Elaine’s skirt, holding her back.
The gun flew through the air and landed at Lucy’s feet. Professor T’s eyes widened. She glimpsed pride there.
Ravi had just reached Lucy when Elaine spun back around toward the professor. He spotted something Lucy didn’t, his features contorting with fury.
“Professor!” he shouted in warning. Ravi dove into the small space between Elaine and the car, leaping in front of his mentor, who remained on the ground.
Elaine staggered back a step, away from the limo, knife in her good hand. It was tipped with blood.
Ravi’s blood. Hissing, he gripped the top of the car door to support his weight. Red blossomed across his abdomen.
“What did you do? What did you do!” Lucy screamed at the woman who had been her mother. “Ravi!”
Elaine rounded on her. “I didn’t—I…” She swallowed. Ravi hadn’t been her intended target, but this was not a woman who apologized. She stilled her shaking hand. “Protecting you is all that matters. You’re my daughter.”
Ravi released a painful groan, losing his balance and slipping toward the ground.
“I am no one’s daughter,” Lucy declared.
Lucinda Minerva Phelps.
Principal Petersen could keep his diploma.
She grabbed the dart gun from the ground and pulled the trigger.